


Not Your Average Walk In The Park

by dsakitad



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bad Luck, Cute, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Injury, Married Couple, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader-Insert, Romance, Strangers Meet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsakitad/pseuds/dsakitad
Summary: You’re on a run through the park when you trip over your own feet and meet a handsome stranger.





	Not Your Average Walk In The Park

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a prompt given to me by a friend. IT WAS A HOOT TO WRITE.  
> If you want to send me a prompt, please do!

It was the same routine every single morning.  
  
Alarm blaring in your face at 4:45am. Snooze.  
  
Again at 4:55am. Debate if you’re ready to move. Snooze.  
  
Final time, the alarm goes off at 5:05 am.   
  
Roll out of bed. Get changed into the workout clothes you have already set out workout clothes the night before. Slide into your runnings shoes. And run.  
  
Despite living in the middle of the city, the moment you stepped foot into Central Park, it was like being transferred to another world.   
  
You slip your earbuds into your ears and turn on your favorite workout playlist filled with upbeat music and begin your usual route around the park. You allow yourself to let your thoughts wander, not paying particular attention to your surroundings, going back and forth between living through fantasies in your mind and making mental to-do lists of what needs to be done that day.   
  
That’s why you were quite surprised when you trip over your own feet and go tumbling to the ground.  
  
Instinctually, you put your arms out to protect yourself from hitting your head, but then change your mind the last second, not wanting a broken wrist. You weren’t quick enough though and the result was that you scrape your arms from the wrist up. As painful as that was, you were more concerned about the shooting pains radiating from your right ankle.   
  
“What the shit,” you wheeze out, curling into a ball on your side, trying to get over the shock of the trauma. You knew you should get up off the ground, but damn if you didn’t hurt. You want to reach over for your phone to make sure it survived the fall but your eyes catch the several hundred dollar device lying next to you, screen cracked and earbuds ripped.   
  
Before you can mourn the loss of the device, you hear heavy footsteps running towards you and you look up, eyes nearly falling out of your head in surprise at who you saw.

Steve Rogers crouches down next to you, blue eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice washing over you in a gentle caress. You give an involuntary shiver.  
  
You mean to give him an answer, but you but you were too busy openly ogling his muscular chest that was straining through the tight fitted Under Armour shirt. The man was simply dazzling in real life. Assuming he was out on a run, you were a bit envious because he didn’t even appear flushed, his blond hair sitting perfectly on his head. It was unfair. That, and it appeared that since he’s shown up in your textbooks back in grade school, he’s grown out a neat beard and it had a devastating effect on your libido.   
  
“Ma’am?” he tries again, gently caressing your arm to grab your attention, concerned that he missed you hitting your head and that you were more seriously injured than he previously thought.   
  
You flush in embarrassment and realized that you were still curled into a ball on the sidewalk. “Oh-uh, I,” you stutter, trying to sit up. Turning over, pain shoots through your leg and you let out an involuntary gasp. “Oh shit, that fucking hurts.” Then you remember who is in front of you and your face darkens more and you look at Steve in horror. “Oh no, I just cursed in front of America’s Golden boy.”  
  
Steve chuckles, “Believe it or not, America’s Golden boy knows a swear word or two.”  
  
You giggled a bit, feeling yourself relax a bit despite the stinging pain in your arms and leg. “Well color me curious.”  
  
He smiles and you feel your heart flutter in your chest and you look away, eyes assessing the torn skin on the bottom of your arms. It looked like serious road rash, but nothing too deep, and for that you were thankful.   
  
Steve clears his throat, catching your attention once again. “Do you think you can stand up? We’re in the middle of the way and I’d hate for you to get trampled by a stray person or animal.”  
  
His question prompts you to attempt to roll your right foot, but just the slightest movement steals your breath because the pain was too much. Your eyes water and you look up at Steve. “I think I broke my ankle.”   
  
Steve’s face turns to one of concern and he looks around to see if there was anyone in the immediate area. There was not. Pleased with this, he focuses back on you. “I’m no doctor, but I could take a look at if real quick and then we can get you somewhere.” You bite your lip, thinking it over for a moment before nodding in consent.  
  
You watch as he delicately prodded around your ankle, feeling for any swelling or tears. He’s very gentle with his touch and though it’s still painful, his intention of being careful causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach. You watch him with a careful gaze, watching his muscles in his arms ripple as he moves to until your shoe. Taking off the shoe itself sends a sharp pain through you and you can’t help the gasp that escapes through your lips.   
  
He looks up at you through his eyelashes with an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he murmurs, managing to get the shoe off all the way. He then feels along the top of your foot, placing two fingers over a spot and holds them there for a moment.   
  
He gives a relieved sigh and gently places your foot in his lap. “So, the good news is, I don’t think it’s broken. Bad news, it’s probably a severe sprain.”  
  
You give a nod, accepting his diagnosis. “Guess it’s a good thing it’s Saturday. Gives me an excuse to be lazy.” You look at your phone again and scowl. “I would call someone, but thanks to breakable technology, I just might need to crawl home now.”  
  
Steve frowns at that idea. “I don’t feel right leaving you on your own injured,” he admits aloud. “And you should still get your ankle looked at by a professional. That and get your arms properly cleaned so they don’t get infected.”  
  
You snort unattractively. “Yeah, well unless you plan on carrying me out of here, I don’t see much of an option.”   
  
Steve doesn’t seem to mind because he gives you a shrug, saying, “I can do that.”  
  
Freezing, you look at him with surprise covering your face. “What?”  
  
He smiles, amused at your reaction and flexes his arm muscles. “I have enough muscle to spare. Plus, I’ve always wanted to save a damsel in distress.”  
  
You can feel your face heat in embarrassment, eyes switching from his arms back to his gaze. Your throat feels dry as you imagine what it would feel like to be carried by the superhero. Swallowing, you say, “Yeah, that wasn’t a suggestion.”   
  
Steve’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “But it’ll work nonetheless!” He then leans forward and easily slides an arm behind your knees and the other behind your back. With very little effort, he stands up, not even teetering a little, and looks down at you with a smug look. “See? I’m stronger than I look.”  
  
At this point, you’re convinced your face is in a perpetual state of being red. For someone so muscular, it was remarkably comfortable in his arms. You have to resist the urge to poke his pectoral, giving an indignant huff.  
  
Without warning, Steve squats down and somehow manages to swipe up the remnants of your phone without dropping you and plops them in your lap.  
  
Righting himself once again, you notice he’s giving you a shit-eating grin. “Are you trying to impress me by showing you can do squats while carrying me?”  
  
“My wife likes it when I show off my muscles,” he teases, kissing the top of your head.   
  
You couldn’t help but smile, nuzzling into his neck. “Yeah, it’s kind of hot.”  
  
Steve starts off towards the tower and you enjoy being in his arms again. He had been gone on a covert mission for the last few weeks and it was complete radio silence. “I had no idea that you were coming home today,” you comment, tracing your fingers over his clavicle.   
  
“Yeah, well, I wanted to surprise my wife on her morning run but she somehow managed to surprise me by faceplanting.”  
  
You gasped in mock outrage, smacking the back of your hand over his chest. “I did NOT faceplant!”  
  
Steve grins down at you and takes the chance to give you a quick peck. “You have your version and I have mine.”  
  
You narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms over your chest, pouting. “You’re just asking to sleep on the couch.”  
The chucklefuck laughs. “Love you too, Mrs. Rogers.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave feedback! I live off of that!
> 
> You can find this originally posted on Tumblr @ds-akita-d


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